


Shame

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Dark Knight [4]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom!kylo, D/s, DarkPilot, M/M, Verbal Humiliation, top!poe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo had been terribly naughty. Poe usually said that word. Naughty. Kylo thought - sometimes - that he was mocking him. Like he was trying to make LIGHT of the years of Jedi-genocide...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shame

Kylo had been terribly naughty. Poe usually said that word. _Naughty_. Kylo thought - sometimes - that he was mocking him. Like he was trying to make **light** of the years of Jedi-genocide. 

Maybe he was. Maybe you couldn’t ever really process the fact that your boyfriend staged a religious civil war. Maybe the only way to come to terms with it was to slip it to one side and focus on day to day incivility. Poe _said_ he forgave him, and that he believed Kylo when he turned his back on his former life. He _said_ it, like his - like his family did - but Kylo was never _wholly, one hundred percent, deep-down_ **sure**. After all, how could they know he wouldn’t slip back into the _black_. Not the **Dark** , but… the other thing. 

Naughty. Even the word was childish, but then, some of his behaviour _was_. He tried to keep the brattishness just for Poe, now. Tried to be a serious and sensible and - **reformed** \- ex-Jedi, ex-dark-Jedi, current-something and general all-around nuisance. He went to war when they said war. He struck his blade when they said go. He threw boxes and people and sanities around like the embers around a fire, and he _tried so very hard_ every day to atone for what he’d done. He did. He even - he - he even _taught_ people. Force-sensitives. He gave them training in how to resist Dark Side powers, but not the Dark Side itself. He couldn’t do the last, because he didn’t… it was complicated, okay. Complicated.

He did it, though. He threw himself with all his vigour and strength into defending the very thing he’d rebelled against. And whenever he had to defend his change of heart - and publicly reassert and reaffirm his loyalty - Poe was always there to back him up. And Kylo kept his chin up, and spoke as clearly and evenly as he could, but it took it out of him. It wasn’t like it was driving him _away_ from the… not-Light… good… thing. It was just that he didn’t know how to make people believe in him, and his tongue felt like it coloured the wind vaguely in his attempts.

He couldn’t explain it well enough. He just - he _knew_ that Snoke and the First Order were evil. Knew their cradle-snatching, speciesist, war-mongering, murderous ways were **bad** and wrong. And knew he had to oppose them. But the person he was talking to - who hated him, his past, so very much - _already knew that too_. It was how he could explain to them the complexities of the Force and - and - things in his past he just didn’t feel ready to disclose to just anyone, and…

…he just… he had to do it. And every time he gave them the party line, it broke him a little more inside. Forever justifying his very existence, and he knew… he deserved it. And that was the worst part. He knew… knew…

Which was why he’d been acting like an ass all afternoon. That tension inside, of a very real **belief** and _cause_ , and an inability and unwillingness to really _yell that yes he knew fucking fine well what he’d done more than you did thank you and yes he knew **evil** and **Dark** and he knew it more than you ever would and if you’d been through what he’d been through maybe you would have–_

 _–and then, the minute you managed to get away, and found there were_ some _who would believe in you, just enough, just enough to help you make a difference then you–_

“Poe…”  


Poe crooked his finger, and Kylo fought to contain a **growl**. 

“Come here.”  


The automatic, knee-jerk reaction was to say: _no_. Or maybe: _why?_  Or: _make me_. Instead, he glared back at him.

“You’re acting like a child, Kylo.”  


_Takes one to know one_. He didn’t even know why the inner voice was such an asshole, but it was. He bit down on his lip to keep that retort inside, and said, instead: “I’m _not_ a child.”

“You’re acting like one.”  


Saying _am not_ would just prove him right. Damnit. “That’s your interpretation of events.”

“Kylo Ren, get your stuck-up ass the hell over here.” Poe looked like he wouldn’t accept anything but complete compliance (as usual) and Kylo wondered how far he could push this.  


“I’m not - I’m not _naughty_.” There. He was always told he should communicate more. Or better. More effectively. Something. Maybe he should have paid more attention to _that_ as well.  


“Alright. You’re not ‘naughty’, but you’re upset, and you’re acting out. You do recognise that, don’t you?”  


_So what if I do_. He said it with only his eyes. **So what if I burned whole star systems to dust**. That wasn’t _naughty._

“Come here. You’re acting hurt, and you act out when you’re hurt. And I know why you’re hurt, and I want to make it better for you,” Poe told him. “And if you need me not to use that word, then I won’t. But you _do_ need this, and I want to help you.”  


Kylo thought about this for a moment. He could continue to resist, and make it worse. But he didn’t think he needed  _worse_ right now. He thought he just needed to feel better. So he nodded, eyes averted, and followed Poe.

Poe who went to sit down, and patted his lap expectantly. Kylo tensed, and breathed through his nose so hard he was sure steam would bellow forth, but it didn’t. It didn’t. _You can do this, Kylo_. He moved to kneel on the couch at right-angles to Poe, and then - after a brief hesitation - dropped forward onto his hands, as well as his knees. He was so tall that his ass was high up if he didn’t slip lower, didn’t slide down to give Poe a lapful of over-tall Ren. 

“It’s okay,” Poe told him, as he stroked a caring hand over his spine.  


“Really.”  


“Yes. Really.” He stroked again, as if comforting a pet, as if the repetition would make it make sense. It hadn’t yet. Not properly, not… permanently. “Because I’m here for you.”  


“Right.”  


“You want to be here, Kylo. You remember that. You remember that, when someone asks you. You **want** to be here. You **chose** to be here. And you chose to be here, knowing people would be afraid of you, and it was easier not to be, and you did it anyway. Do you understand?”  


It was hard. He ground his teeth hard together, and the hand rubbed soothing circles in the dip of his spine. 

“Do you understand?”  


“Yes.” No. No, no, no. How did anyone trust him? How? Kylo gripped the couch, and tensed from top to toe. “…no.”  


“You chose to be here. You saw what you were doing was wrong, and you were brave enough to say it,” Poe reminded him, his voice so very sure. Sure in all the ways Kylo’s always tried to feel. “You did bad - terrible - awful - things, but you’re working to undo it.”  


Kylo flicked his eyes up to Poe, not challenging, but demanding answers. “ _How_? How can anything I do be good enough?”

“Because it **hurts** , Kylo. Because it hurts. That’s how you know you mean it, don’t you? You could say ‘sorry’, and not feel it. But you feel it. I know you do. And I know this - this worry - is just you _caring too much_.”  


He jammed his eyes tight shut and nodded. It was true. It was all true, of course it was. He _did_ want it to go away, the hurt, but he also knew if it went away - if the _guilt_ went away - then he had killed those people for **nothing**. He knew they died, and were forgotten. So he kept them inside of him, and he said sorry, sorry, sorry every chance he could. Maybe it was unhealthy, but he didn’t know how else you processed that amount of _guilt_. That amount of **shame**. 

“You were bad.” Poe paused. “Wrong.”  


He bit his lip hard HARD **HARD** and nodded again. Not naughty. Naughty was too light a word for what he’d done. Kylo arched under his hand, silently requesting more. 

“You did terrible things, Kylo. No one can doubt that.”  


“Yes.” Voice so very, very small.  


“Tell me.”  


“I… I did terrible things.”  


“ _Tell. Me_.” Hardly any pressure behind the words, but Kylo felt the weight and command of them all the same.  


“I did _terrible things_ ,” he insisted. As firmly as he could, which was not very. His voice small, childlike. “I did **terrible things**.”  


“And you need me to punish you for it, don’t you?”  


A tremor that felt like the very ground beneath them opening up a pit of horrible, yawning, aching shame. Of the ache in his heart, of the way he knew - _knew_ \- he was **w r o n g** inside. Wrong. So wrong. He nodded and nodded and nodded and barely managed the _please_ that was what Poe waited for.

“I will. And you will feel a little better,” Poe told him. “You’ll remember that this: that you asking me to punish you, to forgive you, this is part of how you put things right. Do you understand that?”  


It would never be enough, but it would help. Kylo babbled an affirmative, destroyed before Poe even laid a hand on him. He needed it, needed it, needed it _so damn much_. It would never be enough to wipe his slate clean, to wash the blood from his hands, to clear his ears of screams. It would never get into the deepest crevices, where the _darkest things_ hid, but it would help a little. For a while. It would remind him that the Light in him - shattered and flickering and smoky as it was - still needed to be heard.

Kylo lowered his head, and pushed his ass as high as he could. The first spank barely registered, in amongst all the mess inside his head. It was more the sound, and the knowledge that it must have happened. _Harder harder please harder please_. 

The shock of the first few blows gave way to a slowly spreading heat. Poe’s hand impacted with the black fabric of his pants, and that was likely the only reason he wouldn’t see Poe’s fingerprints embedded in his skin. He keened, and begged for more, even though it hurt like - like - like… nothing else ever did. It was different, because the pain was in his _heart_ , more than his body. His upper thighs and ass cheeks **burned** so hot and every whisper in his ear that it was okay, he would do this for him, over and over if he needed to… every whisper… every kind word broke him further open. Open and open until his head was against leather and he was crying himself empty, shaking and still push-pull, back-forth into the blows. Over and over and over until all he could feel was pain. Pain. Pain.

Just pain. The guilt gone down, just for now. Just for now.

“I’m sorry,” he said, around wet eyes and nose. Poe had stopped hitting him, and was just rubbing those comforting circles that still _hurt_.   


“I know, love. That’s why I’m here. It’s okay. You’re doing so well.”  


“I’m not,” he spat back, but not in spite. In open admission, his filters completely down. “I’m not.”  


“You are. You’re doing so very, very well. Do you think it’s easy to repent? Do you think what you’re doing - helping us - is anything other than a miracle?” His hand moved up, up to the small of his back. It just rested there, warm and heavy and sure. “You’re stronger than anyone else knows, Kylo. You’re strong enough to come through this. The bravest thing anyone can do is **change**. Is see they were wrong, and in **resisting** temptation. Never being tempted is no challenge at all.”  


Kylo nodded, and he was tired, all of a sudden. The fight gone out of him, and Poe combed fingers through his hair. Over and over and over. Kylo liked that. He liked the feeling of being cared for, of being safe, of being loved. Worthy. He wanted to please Poe, but he didn’t know if he could even move, right now. 

“Now you’ve been punished, it’s time for the forgiveness to start, Kylo.”  


“…thought… done that?”  


“Then consider this your praise, instead,” Poe said, and slipped from under him.   


Kylo felt a stab of fear in his gut, and he reached a terrified hand out, but it was clasped and pushed gently back onto the couch. 

“I’m still here. I’m still here. I’m going to do something for you. I’m going to do something for you, and it’s going to be hard for you. It’s going to be nice, and you’re going to know you’re worth it, Kylo. You’re going to know you’re worth everything I give to you.”  


He didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t Poe’s hands moving to strip him, slowly. He tried to get up to help, but was pushed back down again every time with a soft shhhh. He relented, and let Poe bare him. He’d seen everything before, it was just that he _wanted to help_. He felt even more naked than usual when he was done, and he wondered if his ass was hot pink from all the abuse. The thought sent a jolt through him, and then there were kisses all over his back and neck. He tried to move again, protesting when he was told to stay still.

“I told you, Kylo. This is for you. This is because you deserve it.”  


Kylo whined, and tried harder to submit. He tried so hard, against his better nature, and then all of a sudden Poe was kissing his _stillachingass_  and he felt a little better, because it hurt there, and maybe Poe would fuck him, now? Maybe he’d been good enough that he’d slip his fingers in, and make him beg, and give him his dick. Lying flat like this, the angle wasn’t good for deep, or rough penetration, but it could still feel damn nice with Poe lying across him. Damn nice. He was getting ready for that when there was a warm, wet… slick of…

…the hell was he playing at? Kylo tried to look over his shoulder, and a soft growl told him to behave. He frowned, watching as Poe lowered his head again and -

\- then - 

………...

……………………

Between his legs, licking. Licking… _there_. Kylo wanted to scream, or tell him not to. He shouldn’t do that, because Kylo was just for Poe to fuck, really. His own climaxes were of secondary importance, and Poe couldn’t _possibly_ enjoy licking behind his balls, or around his hole, or - MAKER DID HIS TONGUE JUST?

Two hands on his sore ass, holding him down into the cushions, making it almost impossible to fight back. He yowled as that _devil thing_ lapped around and around, and teased deeper into him, then back out again.

“Poe! Poe, no! You can’t!”  


Poe thought he could. Poe’s tongue thought it could. It went all the way into him, and Kylo _howled_ in confused pleasure. It was so wrong, so very, very wrong. So wrong and **he needed more** (and that was even more wrong). His nails clawed into the couch, and he rubbed his very-ready cock against the couch below him as Poe carried on trying to play a freaking woodwind instrument up his ass. Or something. Maybe write the Basic alphabet on the inside of his ass. It was so hot, and warm, and soft, and before long he was a quivering _wreck_ , grinding back and back and back and wishing he could have this every d-

—no. No. He didn’t des—

—serve th– is too —- good and—

A finger in, or two, he wasn’t sure. Pulling him open, pulling him wide, making him just - just feel… good… and…

“Poe!”  


No, no, oh god… yes… oh… A hand pulling him up onto his knees, and a hand between his legs. Around his cock, stroking him firmly. Harder, harder, and Kylo clawed harder, making _screeching_ noises over the cushions and - “POE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!”

The fingers stayed in, and the tongue came out, if only for a moment. “What do you need, Kylo?”

“…I…” So hard to talk, so hard to say… “…pleaseletmecome…”  


“Do you think you deserve to?”  


THAT WAS NOT FAIR. A flash of anger, despite everything, and he threw him the hardest look he had. No… betrayal. “Poe…”

“Do you think you deserve it?”  


No. No. Maybe. Just a little. Right? Just a little. An orgasm wasn’t bad. It wasn’t. It was… good. To have. To feel. It didn’t hurt anyone, and Poe wanted it, and he… could have… a small… thing for himself? He did try. He did try hard. He wanted to be good enough. He **did**.

“…yes.” He thought he believed it. Maybe. A little more than before.  


“You do,” Poe said. “You deserve this. And I want to give it to you, so, you’re getting it.”  


Kylo fought back another wave of tears, and then the tongue was back and Poe’s cheeks between his and fingers and hand and the knowledge that _maybe he could have a small thing, just for himself, just for… Poe thought it was okay… Poe said… Poe had to be right, and…._

It hit. It hit, and it was strange. It was pleasure, and release, and pain, and absolution and just a damn physical, bodily function. It was just a climax, just an orgasm, not like - it -

It washed him out, leaving him feeling utterly boneless. His emissions cooling beneath him, and kisses to his thighs. 

“Poe…”  


“It’s okay, Kylo,” he said, kissing back up his spine. “It’s okay. I love you, you fool.”  


“Why?”  


“Because you’re better than you think you are. And I’ll keep telling you until you realise it.”   


A clean hand stroked through his hair, eyes on his level. Poe crouched on the floor, and a soft kiss to the side of his mouth. 

“…why?”  


“Just trust me, Kylo. You’re worth it. And I’ll tell you _until you realise it_.”  


He kissed him, then, and Kylo knew where his tongue had just been. Maybe it should gross him out, but it didn’t. His body was wracked from the spanking and the sexual release, but the kiss felt… better. That felt right. That felt… more. It made something in his body slow, and in his mind quiet.

“I love you,” he told Poe. “Thank you.” And he meant it. And he saw only love and compassion in Poe’s eyes, and the feeling went warmer, deeper, lower, safer… “I love you.”

Poe stroked over his spine, again, and Kylo relaxed under it at last. He melted into the couch, not caring that he lay in his own mess. Not caring, because Poe… Poe loved him… Poe loved him and he would help him, and he would try to be worthy of it. He would. He would.

“Thank you.”  


“Always.”  



End file.
